Mistress Penwick by Dutton Payne

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egress 'twould be a veritable slaughter hole and from the first theyhad kept together, preferring the direction of retreat.

Suddenly one of the men in front of Buckingham leant down and tracedwith his finger on the dusty stone,--

"They have moved it in this direction, and there is no mistaking it,"and he pointed from the ladder.

They followed the direction, holding the light low, and came at onceupon what appeared to be a solid stone wall. Inadvertently the manbearing the lighted taper rested his arm for a moment against thestones. Instantly a blaze flared up and showed a very cleverlyconcocted wall. A canvas had been padded in shape of unhewn stone andpainted in imitation; the oil in the paint had ignited and despoiledthe illusion.

The blaze was quenched in a moment, the canvas door pried open and thethree men passed beyond, carefully closing the door behind them.

Buckingham was close upon them.

They fled rapidly along, Cantemir following his servants and everglancing behind with eyes staring with fear.

Buckingham was not to be caught by fear-staring eyes and kept well inshadow.

The passage was narrow with many windings and appeared to beinterminable.

The men began to run, which was very incautious under thecircumstances, for in a moment they were precipitated into a smallchamber occupied by two stalwart monks. The latter had barely time tothrow themselves upon the defensive ere they were attacked.

Cantemir had the advantage, as the monks were encumbered with theirlong robes.

Then ensued a short fight, in which Cantemir's men won the day--heremaining well in the background.

One of the servants was wounded and lay helpless upon the floor, hishead falling against some object that held him in a semi-uprightposture. Cantemir turned with the torch he had taken from the floor,and looked about him, stumbling over the prostrate bodies of the monksas they lay wounded. Noting his injured servant's position, he ran tohim, and seeing the thing upon which his head rested, kicked his bodyfrom the chest, as if the fellow had been his enemy's dog, instead ofhis own serving man.

With a cudgel he and his comrade opened the chest, after first findingit too heavy to carry at speed and for an indefinite distance.

Cantemir's eyes waxed big with greed and delight, as he lookedwithin. He spread out his long fingers, as if to grasp all the chestcontained.

"These small caskets must be filled with jewels. Anson, fasten thetorch somehow and put these in the bags. Here are some rare laces,looted from some dead Croesus, I warrant,--put those in too;--thoseinfernal papers--they can be of no consequence--"

"Then I will take them, my lord," said the servant. Cantemir eyed himwith no fondness and slipped the papers within his own bag.

Buckingham, watching them from his little cove in the rocks, caught asound that made him start. It was very distant and indistinct, yet hewas quite certain some one was coming, and without further delay hecried out and drew his sword upon the man nearest him, which happenedto be Anson.

The fellow used his sword fairly, but no match for his adversary.

Buckingham run him through before the Russian had regained hispresence of mind.

As the unfortunate Anson fell, the Duke turned to Cantemir, who wasseparated from him by two prone figures and the chest. The Count heldthe advantage and meant to use it by springing ahead into the opening.There was no opportunity for Buckingham to either reach him or headhim off. Cantemir had caught up the filled bags and was smilinginsolently across at him. Buckingham was exasperated, not by thefellow's triumph, but at his own helplessness to cut him off. Butthere was no time to be lost; those other sounds were growing nearer.

The Duke made a bound toward the opening. Cantemir, with an exultantlaugh, sprung also toward the opening, but his laugh was turned intoa yell of fear, as his leg was caught in a death-like grip by theservant he had kicked from the chest.

In an instant Buckingham was upon him and binding his arms tightbehind; the poor, cowardly knave begging at every breath for his life.He was completely undone with fright, his heart melted and his kneesbent.

"And would it not be thy meed to run thee through also, for servingthy wounded knave with a kick? 'twas inhuman--by God! 'tis a pity ittakes a man with a soul to suffer the tortures of hell, for thou wiltnever get thy deserts!" He looked down and saw the poor servant's eyesraised to his pleadingly. The Duke drew from his pocket a flask ofwine and gave it to him; then gathered the bags that lay filled by thechest and hurriedly looked at their contents. As he did so the woundedknave feebly raised his voice,--

"I will be killed if I am found here."

"Nay, a gentleman--" and he cast a scornful glance atCantemir,--"would not kick thee when thou art down; say nothing ofour most noble fathers putting to flight what small life thou hast inthee. What is thy name?"

"Christopher," came in weakened tones from his pallid lips.

In another moment the Duke was gone with his looted treasures.

He flew along at a most undignified gait, bearing his pack as alabourer. His shoulders, unused to such burden, grew tired. Hebegan to wonder if the passage would never end. He was growing moreexhausted than he cared to own, and beside, he apprehended he waspursued.

At last he felt almost compelled to leave one of the bags behind, andstopped to think which, one he should leave. Yet he was a-mind tocarry them all if he broke his back; and beside, it was so dark he wasunable to tell which was the more important.

As he stood undecided he heard distinctly the fast approach offootsteps. He gathered his strength and bags and flung along, somewhatrefreshed by the change of burdens. As he made a turn, the freshoutside air blew upon him. He grew cautious and moved more slowly,listening now in both directions. He might not be overtaken, but someone might be at the opening of the passage. There was no light orsound beyond, and soon he stood in the deep darkness of the outernight 'neath dripping trees. Warily he stepped, lest some crackingtwig exposed his presence.

He ascertained his surrounding was a thicket, and was about to makehis way into its labyrinthine density, step by step; for the waywas difficult, when there was a tramping of horses' hoofs upon therain-soaked road that appeared to be in close proximity.

Under cover of the noise he swept hastily and boldly through thebriery bushes that were thickly entangled, and was able to makeconsiderable headway whence he had come, when the noise ceased and apeculiar whistle rang out; then there were a few moments of quiet, asif those who signalled were listening for an answer.

There appeared to be a chaise with several outriders, as Buckinghamthought, by the tramp of horses' feet, and a creaking of wheelspulling heavily along.

As he gazed anxiously in their direction, a torch was suddenly seta-glow and a horseman rode up with it to the mouth of the subterraneanpassage. He leant from his steed and examined the ground closely,noting doubtless the footprints that led away from the road anddirectly to the place where the Duke stood. He turned abruptly back tothe group upon the highway and conversed in low tones.

Buckingham was not a little perturbed, for a horseman could with lesstrouble than it takes to tell it, track and overtake him in a moment'stime. He fain would have a few minutes to ease his burden, but hisperil was great. There was no doubt but what these men were monks,come to assist their fellows with the chest and convey them to a placeof safety.

Indeed, the secret of the chest must be royal, but whether in jewelsor papers he did not know, nor was it the time and place to find out.If he only knew in which pack was the bone of contention he wouldcertainly lighten his burden.

Again he lifted the bags and strode on lightly, for he still could beheard to the highway, if one should listen.

He had not gone far, however, when there was a shout from thesubterranean opening and much confusion following upon it.

The Duke was now thoroughly aroused. Doubtless the monks within thepassage had at that moment arrived at its mouth, there to make knownto their comrades the robbery of the chest's contents. They were inpursuit; he could hear the bushes crackling beneath horses' feet.Never before had the wily Duke felt so hard pressed. He could affordto be taken himself, for he was sure of a release sooner or later;but his whole being revolted at the idea of losing the riches of hisburden and above all--the secret, the secret that would make hisfortunes thribble, the secret that would make him more powerful thanheretofore. The King's favour would be boundless. And George Villiersturned abruptly and--fell into a swollen ravine that was throbbingwith its over-filled sides. He straightened himself to his full heightand thanked God for the stream, for truly 'twas life-giving water.

He waded in and found it hardly came to his waist in the deepest part.After crossing to its farthest bank, he kept the watery path fornearly a league, thereby throwing his pursuers effectually off thetrail. But where his course trended, 'twas impossible to tell, asthere was no moon, and the stars were veiled by thick cloud thatvomited forth rain in gusts.

The leather bags were very near rain-soaked and had become so heavy'twas impossible for anything less than a beast of burden to carrythem further, so leaving the friendly stream, he walked some littledistance from it, gaining to his surprise an open road. This was notwhat he wished, and was turning from it when he stumbled and fellprone. Being hot with anger and fatigue, he reached for the obstaclethat had so unmanned him to damn it. 'Twas a large, round knot. Itstruck his memory, as he held it, with a thought of the morningbefore.

"_Eureka_!" he cried, as he felt the very presence of the tall tree bythe public highway that led from Crandlemar, London way. He arose andreached for the aperture.

"Egad, 'tis there!"

Fortunately the royal tree was not far from the unused cabin that hadafforded him accommodation some hours before. He immediately sat downupon the bags and rested.

There passed him several horsemen and a chaise; whether they were hiswhilom companions of the thicket or not he did not care. It wassure they were in haste to leave the village as far behind them aspossible.

When the sound of the horses' hoofs had died away, he again donned hisleathery burden and made for the depths behind him.

He was not long in reaching the _rendezvous_, and was met by hisanxious servant, who had but just arrived from seeking him.

The exhausted Duke gave orders for one hour's rest, then fell upon apile of blankets that were spread upon the damp and open floor.

An hour later saw the Duke astride his horse, that stood with flaringnostrils, caring not a whit for his extra burden of saddle-bags andflew along the wet road, regardless.

Hours after his master jumped from his back at Hornby's.

The morning was far advanced and Mistress Penwick was fretting underthe delay.

Monmouth had plead that the weather was too wet and Lady Constance wastoo ill to proceed until the following day.

The maid had demurred, saying Janet might remain with her ladyship;but Monmouth was not quite at liberty to take Katherine without firstseeing Buckingham, whom he thought should have arrived early in themorning.

As Buckingham came into the great room of the inn, Katherine proposedthey set out at once, as she would reach Whitehall, if possible,before Sunday.

It was not the Duke's wish to proceed further without resting himselfand horse; but being anxious to please Mistress Penwick, he said'twould be his pleasure to start at her convenience; whereupon sherelaxed her ardour, finding no opposition, and asked him if he thoughtthe weather would permit. He answered that the weather must permit,and that they could easily reach their destination without killingmore than three relays.

"Nay, nay, your Grace, if one horse only were to die, I would notpermit such hurry!"

Suffice it; the Duke had his rest, and being of no mind to remainlonger, at five o'clock in a gale of wind and rain set forth.

They had but common post-chaises as any squire would have, as thesetravelled about without drawing the attention that a London coachwould. They rattled and slid along at their own convenience on themuddy road, and the postilion were soon reeking with mire thrown fromthe horses' feet.

For five hours the chaise jostled Constance, until she declared shewould go no farther. Buckingham, who rode with his secret in thechaise that followed, said if they stopped to rest over night, theycould not reach Whitehall before the King should leave.

This was a ruse planned by himself and Monmouth, as the latter hadsettled where he should take Katherine, and the former, not having hadtime to examine the contents of the bags, was loath she should see theKing ere he had done so.

Katherine, seeing that Constance' lips were blue and her face pale,and forgetting her ladyship's evil ways, agreed they should stop atthe first inn and there lie until the next morning; Janet havingdeclared privately to her mistress that she should not waste any timewith her ladyship.

Though the night was black and the road uncertain, yet they maintaineda fair pace over the open downs, having left the shadowy trees behind;but there were no lights ahead and the prospects of getting shelterfor the night were dubitable.

Constance became more and more impatient, pulling up the window everyfew minutes to inquire if any lights were to be seen, each timeletting in a shower of rain that deluged her dress. This dampness wassoon felt by her ladyship, whose temper could hardly keep her warm,and she called for blankets. There were none. At this knowledge shegrew worse, and cried that she was in a chill and must have aid fromsomewhere.

For a truth, her teeth were chattering and her hands were cold, butit was nothing but mimosis brought on by the evil caldron that boiledwithin her wicked body. She had heard Buckingham tell Katherine thatthe King would be gone from Whitehall if they were delayed. Her planswere now made, and this sudden illness was a ruse to detain the maid.No, she must not see the King. She must now, first of all, becomeMonmouth's mistress, then Cedric in his wild despair would turn againto her; his playfellow, his old love, Constance.

Whether the postilion were in their master's confidence or not is notcertain, but just before midnight they plunged into a narrow, miryroad that traversed wastes and low coppices; the plash of the horses'feet showed the tract to be marshy and full of pools. Her ladyshiplooked out across the dreary fen and exclaimed,--

"I'll be damned, they have set us out like ducks!" At her wordsKatherine drew from her with disgust. It was the first she had heardher swear; but she had not yet seen her true nature.

On a sudden the chaise made a lunge and stopped in a deep rut. Someone plodded laboriously to the door and thrust in a rain-soakedvisage, saying,--

"Their Graces beg your patience, as we cannot move until help comes.There is a light ahead, and we hope to get on directly."

It was hours, however, before the lumbering equipages were pried outand started on. The light beyond had paled as dawn broke. They wereonce more upon the causeway, and the horses' feet beating with loudand even step upon the wet road.

Constance had calmed, and with the other occupants slept through thelong delay. Nor did she wake until they had entered a thick wood wherethe branches of the trees swept tumultuously against the window. Thenshe opened her eyes with a start and saw Katherine still sleeping,her head pillowed on Janet's bosom. Her limbs were stiff from theircramped position. Vainly she essayed to stretch, and cried out as arheumatic pain took her. She swore roundly and vowed she would alightat the first hut they should come upon.

It seemed hours before they came to a long, low stone building,evidently an old-time lodge. It was covered with ivy that trembled andglistened in the wind and rain.

The chaises stopped at the door, which was thrown open by an outriderwho knocked up the locker with his whip handle.

The opening disclosed great, high-backed pews and an altar and pulpit.It was indeed a place of refuge to the weary travellers. It was dryand clean and afforded rest. Katherine stepped inside first, andimmediately knelt and crossed herself. Monmouth did the same, knowingthat the maid's eyes were upon him.

They took seats not far from the altar and settled themselvescomfortably; for the servants had gone to find food and fresh horses.

Katherine was stirred by the sacredness of the day and place, andtook little part in the conversation that was becoming more and moreanimated, as the Dukes and Constance drank heavily of wine broughtfrom Monmouth's box in the chaise. And when meat, bread and cheesewere brought and more wine was drank, her ladyship became maudlin andcast her eye about for diversion.

It fell upon the pulpit, and she tripped up to it, passing over thesacred altar in vulgar _insouciance_.

It pained Katherine to see the place so lightly esteemed, and she gavea little cry of "Oh!" as Constance threw open the Bible and began topreach in mockery of the Methody parson.

Buckingham's face was as stolid as Janet's; Monmouth's bearing a smilethat was bastard of mirth.

Hardly was her ladyship started, when a tall form, strong boned andsinewy, strode through the open door. His ruddy face disclosed whatappeared to be a stern and rough temper. His forehead was high; hisnose well set over a mouth moderately large. His habit was plain andmodest. The rain dripped from his red hair and the bit of mustachiothat he wore on his upper lip. His quick, sharp eye noted the men andwomen that sat apart, and then turned like a flash upon the woman inthe pulpit.

As Constance saw the man full in the face, there was a bathos in herzeal, and she stopped, open-mouthed, and closed the book.

Neither Buckingham nor Monmouth could see the countenance of him thatentered, so they held quiet and wondered at her ladyship's behaviour.Katherine had bent her head upon the back of the seat.

The tall man proceeded up the aisle, his eyes upon the titled womanwhose face was now covered with a genuine blush. For the first time inher life she felt ashamed. She felt a presence near her that was notaltogether of this earth's mould.

At last regaining a semblance of her usual _aplomb_, she stepped fromthe pulpit and made toward the door, where others were entering. Shelooked back when half-way down the aisle and beckoned to the others ofher party to follow. As she did so, there came from the pulpit a voiceso rich and sweet, so penetrating the soul, the woman trembled andlistened.

It was the "Kyrie Eleison" sung in a new tune with clear, strongEnglish words, and they rung and rung in Constance' ears, as theycontinued to do for the rest of her days.

"He is a Ranter. Let us stay and hear him?" Monmouth said.

"Nay," said Katherine; "I am without covering for my head. Let'sbegone, the meeting is gathering. What a glory is in his countenance,and his voice is like music!"

"The lack of a bonnet need not hinder. Thou art a lady andprivileged."

"Nay, nay. I would know who he is?" Monmouth plucked the sleeve ofa passer-by and inquired. The man answered with a question put in awhisper,--

"Hast never read 'Pilgrim's Progress'?" The Duke threw back a glanceat the form in the pulpit, then strode forward and jumped into thechaise.

CHAPTER XXII

TELLS OF THE DOINGS OF ALL CONCERNED

The house stood surrounded by a beautiful lawn that sloped graduallyto the river. Trees in full leaf and woody perennial plants in fullblossom, dotted the sward. The long, low stone building was coveredwith vines that hung in rich purple bloom. All was quiet, refined,subdued--without pomp. Not so was the chief inmate of this charmingabode. She stood gowned in filmy white, waiting for Janet to spreadher repast, but the nurse moved at leisure, resolving to give the maidmeat for thought, as she did for the body. She said:

"When a maid is without father or mother, and away from her rightfulguardians, and has presented her such frocks as thou dost wear, 'tisthe maid's duty to find out whence such gorgeous and unmonasticapparel comes."

"But, Janet, I do know. The Abbes have made provision for me. Theybade me leave the castle without incumbrance, and the chest was sentfor my necessity. I mean to pay it all back when I return--or when Isend to Lord Cedric."

"And when will that be, Lambkin?"

"When the King gives me audience."

"And thou art expecting the Duke of Monmouth to bring the word fromWhitehall?"

"He said 'twas his pleasure so to do."

"Now God pity me this day; I would I had never seen it!"

"Why wearest thou so sorry a face, Janet?"

"For thy too fat zeal. Is it not enough to make an ingrowing visage?"

"How so?" said Katherine in feigned _insouciance_.

"A surfeit of good, like a too-full cup, boils over and falls to ill."

"Have I not always loved thee, Lambkin; search thy memory; did I evertell thee lies or use the veil of falsehood to cover from thee thatwhich I would not have thee know?"

"Nay; but thou hast used artifice 'til it is threadbare, and I nowbehold its naked warp."

"But hast well served, thou canst not deny. It has made thee the sweetinnocent bud thou art, and we will enshrine its shade, though it hathno soul to join it hereafter, and I will resort to vulgar frankness,employed by the truculent commonplace, and say we live in an age ofswaggering, badgering, immoral-begotten, vice-ridden, irreligiousdecrepitude--" Katherine made a hissing noise with her teeth, as ifshe had been suddenly and severely pricked by a pin, then put up herhands and stopped her ears--this day, Mistress Penwick thou shalt knowthe character of thy King--Nay, thou shalt know. I will tell thee that'twill poison thy mind of one of so great station--"

"Thou hast overreached artifice, Janet, and gone back to Bible daysand corrupted them by borrowing parabolic speech to waste upondeaf-eared seventeenth century maid."

"Ah, Lambkin; with closed ears thou dost not becalm sight and wit,they cease not to fructify under suasion of childhood impregnations.I fear not for thee, if thou art forewarned. If thou art taken to theKing, he will straightway be enamoured of thy beauteous face and willwish to have thee near him, and because he is of so great a title, hewill expect to mould thee to his desires, whether 'tis thy will ornot. He may perhaps overawe thee, and thou wilt feel flattered by hisapproaches, which will seem sincere to thy untutored perceptions.'Twill be thy first meeting with a King. There is one thing most sure,thou wilt not think him handsome; he has not the rich colouring thatso marks Lord Cedric's face, nor yet the clearness of countenance. TheKing is most swarthy, gross featured and unfitted to thy fancy.And how wouldst thou like such to approach thee and fondle thyhand--perhaps imprint thy cheek with a caress, or his long fingers togo a foraging on thy slender neck?"

"Nay, nay, Janet; I should most surely hate such an one. I am sure Ishould hate! hate!"

"But 'tis surely to what thou art coming."

"But, Janet, the Duke of Monmouth is the King's son, and his Grace ofBuckingham his friend; and with these two at my side, what harm couldcome to me?"

"Should the King propose to keep thee with him, could they lie likeslaves or dogs across thy threshold in the dead hours of night to keepunwelcome visitors from thy door?" Katherine's eyes appeared on asudden to open wide upon a thing she had not dreamed of before.

"Indeed, Janet, I think I see the trend of thy parables. He is thendebauched and given to entering rooms not his own at any hour hechooses. I will be most careful and avoid spending the night."

"But he may insist on thy presence, and no one dare gainsay the Royalwill."

"I am for the time of his dominion, but we can claim at any momentKing Louis' protection, and therefore I may defy him if I wish?"

"'Twill be like jumping from the river into the sea. I understand,Lambkin, thou art bent upon paying well for thy popish idolatry. Ifhis Majesty sets black eyes on thee, thou art undone. If thou artdetermined to go, we must have some way to prevent his falling in lovewith thee. Thou wilt be willing to do this for me and--thyself, Love?"

"Then I might not become that I so much wish--a Lady of Honour!"

"That phrase, my Lambkin, is paradoxical--'Lady of Honour.'"

"Janet, thou dost turn all sweets to bitterness!--Then I will mottlemy face and wear a hump and be spurned outright. 'Twill ill serve me.'Twill not accord a safe issue."

"Thou must not forget the King hath a tender heart for distress, andnow I think on it, 'tis possible, if thou didst so disfigure thyself,thou wouldst gain his reply the quicker. We will mottle thy face withleprous spots and cover thee with old woman's clothes, placing a humpupon thy shoulder. And no one shall be privy to our scheme but hisGrace, and my lord of Buckingham, if they are to attend us." Janetfelt satisfied with the turn affairs had taken.

"I think I shall enjoy it hugely. 'Twill be fine sport to so puzzlethe King, and when he sees me as I am--" and Mistress Penwick turnedproudly to a mirror--"he will be pleased!"

"We will not think of that now, Lambkin. When dost thou expect herladyship?"

"She did not say, but I think perchance she will come before the Dukeof Monmouth returns."

"And he will not come before the morrow, didst thou say?"

"When I demurred at not going straight to his Majesty, he said 'twouldbe meet for me to remain here until he should first see him; thenhe should return in a day. Those were his words, Miss Wadham,_verbatim_,--now thou dost know everything I do, but--the churchsecret; and if thou wert not insolvent for ways and means, thouwouldst have had that." With a sudden step, the maid flung her armsabout Janet, who ever felt hurt when called Miss Wadham.

Katherine sat to her evening meal with many flutterings of pleasure inher young and guileless heart. Her first thought was of Cedric. He wasgoing to live and doubtless would follow her as soon as he was able,and she would again see his handsome features and hear him admonishher with a tenderness she was sure he would show after being sofrightened by her absence. It did not come to her that she should bein sackcloth and ashes for causing him such woeful pain and misery.She only tried to remember how he looked, as many a love-sick maidenhath done heretofore. She pictured the rich colouring of his cheeksand how his dark eyes had looked into hers; and she remembered howonce he had thus beheld her, his glance sweeping her face, then he hadtaken her hand and pressed his lips to it passionately. Her face grewrose red and she trembled with ecstasy. She, so perfect in mouldand health, was capable of extravagant and overpowering emotion; arapturous exaltation that filled her and took possession of her wholebeing. She tried to turn her thoughts to Sir Julian, and wonderedvaguely why he had not come to London. He had intended leaving thecastle before this; and why had he not found her? He might know shewould like to inquire of those at home,--the Duke of Ellswold and theothers that were ill. The thought seemed to grow upon her, and shewondered more and more why no one had been sent after her, and howvery welcome Sir Julian would be. Could it be that Lord Cedric was tooill for him to leave?

The Dukes had fairly left Constance and Katherine at the very door ofthis villa belonging to one of Monmouth's friends, and proceeded atonce to Whitehall, where they needs must report of their visit to theDuke of Ellswold. The King detained them near his person, much tothe annoyance of Buckingham and serious discomfort to Monmouth. Thelatter, so anxious for the companionship of Mistress Penwick, couldnot help but show his uneasiness and hurry to withdraw, which made hisMajesty still more obstinate.

Two days Katherine had been thus alone at the villa, little knowingthe idea of bringing her cause to the King's notice was the mostforeign to either Buckingham or Monmouth, the latter wishing topromote his own cause with her until she should become satisfied toremain at his side, without seeking further Court favour. The formergentleman had among his looted treasures certain papers that madenecessary, for his own personal aggrandizement, the strict seclusionof Mistress Penwick.

Lady Constance had been so thwarted--her mode of battle proving soabortive--she resolved to fight as things came in her way, withoutmethod or forethought. There was only one settled arrangement; thatwas the full and complete destruction of this woman that had comebetween her and Cedric. She had gone, after a few hours of rest at thevilla, to the mercer's for silks and velvets and furbelows to arrayherself for conquest and take--now that she had fair hold on Royaltyitself--some masculine heart; if not the heart, the hand without it;if not Cedric's, be it whose it might, so it were titled and rich. Shealso sought Cantemir and news from Crandlemar.

As she stood at the polished counter in the mercer's shop, she glancedwithout and saw--or thought as much--Lord Cedric himself, pale, yetstepping in full strength from a chair. She quitted the counter andhastened to the entrance and looked up and down the busy street withlonging eyes. But there was no sign of my lord's handsome figure.After securing her purchase, she repaired at once to Lord Taunton's--akinsman of Cedric's--'twas possible he would be stopping there. But hewas not.

She rode from place to place, hoping at every turn to see him; but toher chagrin she found him not, even at a certain inn in Covent Garden,where he had been wont to stay. She drove in her cream-hued coach tothe Mall, but he was not to be found.

Her first act after reaching London had been to dispatch a letterposthaste to the castle, telling of her abduction by the Duke ofMonmouth, who, she believed was determined to bring herself andMistress Penwick to the King's notice, as he avowed Court was notCourt without such faces. She, being so widely known and so wellconnected, had been allowed her freedom, on condition that shereturned promptly and keep their hiding place a secret. Then came thatshe felt would touch Cedric.

"I overheard some converse about your Lordship, a hint that some knavegave thee a slight wound. Now, if this be true, if thou art hurt atall--which I cannot allow myself to think--tell me, tell me, Cedric,and I will fly from Court and all the world to thee, my sweet cousin,my playfellow, my beloved friend, now."

This letter fortunately did not reach Cedric in time to give him arelapse, as he was on his way to London when the courier arrived atthe castle.

He had drawn rein at Tabard Inn, Southwark. It abutted on the Thamesand was opposite the city, and it suited his fancy to stop here,rather than ride into London. His business was private and not farfrom his present quarters. His wound had healed enough to give him notrouble, and action kept his mind easy. He had seen Constance withas fleeting a glimpse as hers had been of him. It was quite enough,however, he wishing never to set eyes upon her again.

That evening he went to seek Buckingham at the Royal Palace. He had noaustere regard for the pomp and splendour of the Court at best, andnow he was almost unconscious of his surroundings. His azure-huedcostume was magnificent in its profusion of embroidery and preciousstones. There were none more handsome of face or figure. Courtiers andwits abounded, but none more courtly or witty than he, when he wasmoved. None bowed before his Majesty's dais with more grace, appearingmore a king than he who filled the Royal chair. He erred not in themost minute detail of demeanour. There was no one in the realm thatheld more of his Majesty's regard.

After being detained some moments at the Royal chair, he went to seekBuckingham, whose first words smote him foolishly.

"It is said, my lord, that Love hath Cupid's wings, and I verilybelieve William was right, or else how couldst thou have flutteredfrom a couch of painful wounds to London either by chaise or a horse?Ah!--Love is nascent; after cycles of time it may become mature enoughto be introduced into Court--eh!--my lord?"

"Contemporary chronicles relate that the mind is capable of greatersuffering than the body, and when both are affected, if we giveprecedence to the employment of the mind, the body is at once cured;hence my sound chest. Hast thou seen Sir Julian?"

"He is with Monmouth in his chamber. They have been drinking deep, orat least the Duke, who is pouring out in Pomphrey's ear confidencesalmost too maudlin to be understood;" and there was a covert sneeron the haughty lips of his Grace. At the name of Monmouth and theknowledge that he was not with Katherine, Cedric's great tensionappeared to snap asunder. For a moment Buckingham gazed at hiscompanion as if in him there were undiscovered mines. Then suddenlyhis mind and eye returned to the tangible, and he run his arm throughthat of Cedric's and drew him away. When they were quite alone, theDuke, without the shadow of compunction, said,--

"You, my lord, are ambitious of nothing but domesticity. Is it notso?" His Lordship looked up with a start. If there was one thing hehated more than another, it was intrigue. And though he was everenvironed by it, yet 'twas not his business now. He had come seekingBuckingham for the purpose of asking his assistance with the Dukeof Monmouth, and at these words, so foreign from his interests, hefrowned slightly and answered,--

"'Twould be difficult to say at what I aspire, seeing the thing Icoveted most is taken from me. If that were mine, it might open up avista of aspirations I had ne'er thought on heretofore I see only onething at the present worth possessing."

"And to possess that--thou art one of the richest nobles in therealm--eh! Cedric?" His Lordship thought he saw the trend of hisGrace's mind, and felt better.

"I'm rich to be sure, egad! What's the game, faro, loo, crib,langquement or quinze?" and he tapped his pouncet-box nervously.

"We have always been good, true friends, my lord. Your father and minehave shared in many and continued vicissitudes, and for this causealone, barring our friendships of more recent years, I would give theea secret of which I am only half owner."

"And what is this secret, your Grace? I am interested."

"A secret cut into is only half a secret, and--"

"Ah! ah! how stupid I have grown! By all means, we are dealing infractions, and to get the other half I must either pay or go a-huntingfor it."

"And thou, being hot-foot after most precious game, methought 'twouldbest serve to give thee a clue, as to the value of the secret, thatthou couldst determine whether 'twas worth the finding;--whether 'twasworth the leaving off pursuit of that thou art after,"--and the Dukethrew open his waistcoat and revealed its lining of rare satin and apocket that contained a paper written upon in a writing that made LordCedric start, for he recognized it as Sir John Penwick's. And thererecurred to him the conversation he overheard at the monastery, whenone said,--"and once Sir John gets to this country." But nay; hisvery last words in his own waistcoat pocket? So he spoke outdisdainfully,--

"And thou dost embroider thy facings with dead men's autographs?"

"They are the better preserved, my lord," said the Duke, with a smile.

"Then I am to understand the secret doth nearly concern Mistress Penwick, and if I should show her favour, I would pay well for a sequelto that thou art about to unfold, eh! Duke?"

"Aye, pay well; for the demand will be more than thou dost imagine,"and he took the paper and gave it into Cedric's hands.

At a glance Cedric saw that the outside paper only was written on bySir John; the inner document, containing the whole story, being madein a strange hand. And Cedric said to himself,--"Aye, 'tis a ruse.Sir John is dead and I'll wager on't."

"Thou mayest occupy my chamber, which for the present is here." TheDuke left the anxious Cedric to read at leisure.

Lord Cedric knew 'twas not his Grace's way to waste time on things ofno moment, and he therefore apprehended evil and his fingers trembled;his dark eyes grew large as he read; his face changing from redto white as the different emotions were awakened; his white teethcrushing his lips. Sir John Penwick had left England, taking all hisworldly goods--which were of no mean value--with him. He settled hispossessions in the New World. These in time became very great and hewas known as one of the wealthiest men in the locality in which helived. After six years of married life, a great grief came upon him;his wife died, leaving him a baby girl of five. This so unsettledhim--having loved his wife beyond measure--he turned again to warfare,having interest and inclination for naught else. He sent his babydaughter with her nurse, Janet Wadham, to the Ursuline Conventat Quebec, where they remained until coming to England. Sir Johntravelled about from one country to another, engaging in all kinds ofintrigue and war. One Jean La Fosse--a Jesuit priest--had been formany years the tried and true friend of Sir John, having been in hisearly years a suitor to Lady Penwick. This friendship had grown sostout that when they met again in the New World, Sir John put hispossessions, in trust, into La Fosse's keeping. When Sir John wastaken prisoner, a sort of treaty had been entered into between theFrench and English, and hostages were required for prisoners ofimportance. La Fosse was now holding high office in the ranks of hisadopted country--England. Therefore, when hostage was asked by theEnglish for Sir John Penwick, La Fosse saw the chance he had waitedfor for years, and his John was every inch an Englishman, and sincebeing prisoner of the French, determined as far as possible to placehis belongings with his own country. He had thought it all out andwrote his desires to La Fosse. Of course, what belonged to Sir Johnbelonged to England, but his possessions were on French soil and hisdaughter in a French convent. And now Sir John felt 'twould be anopportunity to place his child forever in the hands of his owncountry. La Fosse had so shaped affairs, that Sir John was at hismercy, and at Sir John's proposal that his child should be held ashostage for himself, he had answered that the babe was of too tenderyears to be accepted unless accompanied by lands, tenements andhereditaments. This was a happy thought to Sir John, and his old trustof La Fosse came back. "After all," he thought, "the French wouldrather give up my child than a man, but my possessions they wouldnever give." So, not suspecting La Fosse's duplicity, he gave himlegal right to place his property as hostage also. The child was toremain at the convent, unless England preferred to have her undertheir own _regime_. La Fosse was sure Sir John would never again befree and could never, of course, claim his lands. He went so far asto make sure--as sure as was in his power--that Penwick should not bereleased. He, being a man of shrewdness, at once manipulated affairswithout the knowledge of his sovereign or the higher powers about him.In a very short time these possessions were built upon by the Jesuits,who, through La Fosse, claimed all right and title. But La Fosse wasforgetful. He never gave the babe a second thought, it being of noconsequence whatever. It would, no doubt, sicken and die without amother's care. He was aware of its whereabouts, but even that in timewas forgotten, his mind being occupied by more pertinent thoughts.This was a great victory for the Catholics, whose lands had beenconfiscated in England, and La Fosse felt he had dealt a master strokefor his religion. But no mortal man can equal Time as an adept inchicanery. He brings forth truths unheard of or dreamt by poorhumanity.

Years went by and La Fosse was suspicioned. At the first smell ofsmoke, La Fosse fled. No one knew whither. He escaped, however, tothe monastery upon Lord Cedric's estates. The sudden appearance ofMistress Penwick at the monastery was believed to be a direct answerto their prayers. When, too, it was found without a doubt she was SirJohn's daughter, they felt she belonged to them to do with as theypleased, so all things were accomplished for the benefit of the onlydivine church. Their rights in the New World were now being meddledwith and this God-send was to give them, with her own hand, all rightand title to the property in question.

Sir John had vaguely heard while in prison of Jean La Fosse'sduplicity, and at once sought to save his daughter from his hands bysending her to his old friend, Lord Cedric of Crandlemar. He, angry athimself for being so duped, and heartbroken at his loss of property,knew of nothing else to do but call upon his Lordship for his child'sprotection; yet he was too proud to tell him why these calamitieshad come upon him. Indeed, any man would take him for a fool for sotrusting another. He had been ill when writing those letters. He neverexpected to arise from bed again and thought 'twas best to say he wasdying; 'twould perhaps touch Cedric's heart as nothing else would!Thus ended a document that was still incomplete, and his Lordship satwondering and thinking. This meant that the Catholics were exposingKatherine to the King's pleasure. She was being sent to him fora title--a title that was to give them all her possessions. AndBuckingham held the clue that would save those lands or--or herfather--if he were alive. Aye, he should have all the money he asked;for the Catholics should not have their way. "They shall not, by God,they shall not!"

"They shall not!" quoted Buckingham behind him.

CHAPTER XVIII

AT MONMOUTH'S VILLA

Lord Cedric looked about him. He had heard no sound and was surprisedand not well pleased that Buckingham had so caught him off his guard;for he now understood that the Duke was undoubtedly deriving somebenefits from this fiendish plot, and the greater his perturbation theeasier mark for his Grace.

"The maid proposes at all hazards to see the King. Monmouth is asdetermined she shall not. However, if she escapes the Duke, she willvisit Whitehall and present her plea to his Majesty for his signature.He is--after seeing her--not supposed to refuse her anything. And notknowing the value of these lands will sign the paper, thereby givingthe Catholics the property. Then if he sees fit--which of course hewill--will retain the beauty as a Maid of Honour. If he should refusethe plea, she is to hand him a sealed paper, which will give him theknowledge that he has before him a hostage who wishes his signature tothe willing of her property to her beloved Church. They do not counton his putting two and two together and seeing their scheme. Theythink he will be so infatuated, that 'twill be 'aye, aye, aye,' to herevery look. She only knows half the contents of the thing she presses'neath the folds of her dress."

"By God, Buckingham, this is despicable! She to be made the tool ofher religion!"

"There are other complications, my lord. Providing thou art successfulin running the gauntlet with Monmouth first, then the King, thou,thyself, art in danger of the Tower or Tyburn-tree." With a boundCedric was upon his feet and sprang toward the Duke,--

"A thousand devils, man, I care not for myself,--'tis the maid;beside--what have I done, why am I so threatened?"

"The scheme for thy destruction is already set a-foot. If thoushouldst get the maid in any wise, it appears thou art doomed. Take myadvice, look to thyself and let the--"

"'Sdeath! finish it not!" and there was that in the young lord's eyesthat curtailed the Duke's words, and he stood frowning at Cedric andthinking what next to say.

"When thou art acquainted with the circumstances, my lord, thou wiltsee thy peril. One Christopher, whom I once befriended with a bottleof wine in a certain close passage, came tottering to me, asking formy patronage, which I accorded him, as he was a sorry spectacle. As areward for my seeming kindness, he told me that the knave Cantemirwas arousing the Protestants by speaking of the monastery being a_rendezvous_ for all good Catholics, naming the lord of Crandlemar asone of them. The knave is working with both factions. He has gainedsome powerful help. These are to come upon the King and demand aconfiscation of thy lands, thou art also to be sent to Tower orTyburn-tree for the murder of thy servant--"

"Enough, enough, my heaven! I did kill the bastard Christopher."

"Ah! not so. 'The bastard Christopher' is still on his legs and givesCantemir's plans away; for the knave kicked him when he was down. Thouart to have thy head, but--"

"Nay, my friend, tell me no more. Ah!--is there any limit to thisdevil's industry! I have to thank thee to-night, on the morrow--"

"I'm expecting to leave Whitehall early--" Cedric started.

"Will Monmouth bear thee company?"

"Nay, his Majesty seems on a sudden to have an undue fondness forhim."

"God strengthen it."

"'Tis a pity there is such thing, else his Grace would not care togo."

"And thou and I might not have been brought into this world."

"And Adam have had eyes only for the serpent, not even coveting theapple."

"_Adieu_, my lord!"

"_Adieu_, your Grace!"

The candles were just a-light within the villa, where the thickfoliage of tree and vine brought a premature gloaming. Outside fellupon the sward the last rays of the setting sun. In the depths of theshadowy leaves the glow-worms displayed their phosphorescent beauty;the lampyrid beetles plied between gloom and obscurity, impatient forthe mirror of night to flaunt therein their illumined finery. Inthe distance was heard the lusty song of the blowsy yokels, as theyclumsily carted homeward the day's gathering. The erudite nightingalethrew wide the throttle of his throat and taught some nestling kin thesweetness of his lore.

From the villa doorway passed out Mistress Pen wick in flutteringwhite, with the waxy jasmine upon breast and hair. Down she came,unattended, through aisles bordered by fragrant blossoms, traversingthe way from door to postern-gate with quick, light steps.

She was not aware Monmouth had left a strong guard and orders to allowno one to enter save those he made provision for.

As her hand rested upon the gate, a guard stepped from behind a bowerof iris and gently opened it for her. She was somewhat taken aback byhis presence. The stalwart guard strode after her; she, noticing it,turned about and said sweetly for him to hold the gate open 'til shereturned, that she would only be gone a very few minutes.

"My lady is alone upon the highway, and I could not suffer her to beso, begging permission."

"Nay, I wish to be alone. Remain at the gate."

"It may not be, my lady; 'tis his Grace's order to give thee properescort outside the gate."

"Ah, then--" she turned from him and beckoned to a monk who appearedto be walking aimlessly upon the opposite side of the way, but at herbidding moved with alacrity. When the guard saw her intention, hebegged her to consider the Duke's wish that she should communicatewith no one.

"I was not aware, sir, that I am held as prisoner. I'm quite sure hisGrace was only kindly intentioned for my safety;--and as for furthervigilance, 'tis beyond his power to use it." The three now stood atthe gate. The monk looking intently at the guard, said,--

"Where hath flown thy religion, Eustis?"

"'Tis a poor religion that hath not the grace to offer its adherentsan honest living."

"Ah! then thy faith is hinged upon the _largesse_ of the damned.There!--take for the nonce thy meed in honest coin." The Abbe gave hima piece of gold and passed within the gate. The sun now dropped fromsight, leaving the villa terraces in sombreness, and brought intoprominence glow worm and firefly and the sheen of Mistress Penwick'sfrock.

"I have watched for thee ever since thou arrived, hoping to catchthine eye.--Hast guarded the billet to the King, my child?"

"Here it is." She took from her bosom the letter. The keen eyes of theAbbe saw the seal was intact and quickly put out his hand deprecatingwhat her act implied.

"'Twas not that, my child; 'twas the fear that thou hadst been robbed,as we have. We trust thee with all our hearts," and she read nothypocrisy in the feint of benignancy.

"Thou hast been deceived into thinking that the Duke of Monmouth orBuckingham will arrange a meeting between thee and the King. Theformer Duke is evil-intentioned toward thee."

"Ah, my Father; thou dost sorely grieve me! If thou didst not say it,'twould be hard to believe; for surely he has been most kind to me."

"But 'tis true, nevertheless. He is now with the King and fretting forbeing so detained from thee. He means to offer thee the protection ofhis favour; which means thou art to become an inmate of his seraglio.Dost understand me, my child?"

"Ah!--I understand," and Mistress Penwick looked up into the face thatthe darkness veiled.

"And I have heard that the King is sometimes poorly intentioned" Themonk coughed behind his hand and moved uneasily,--"'Tis said of him,as other like things are reported; but 'tis false. He is a goodCatholic at heart, and he will offer thee no insult, else we wouldnot allow thee to approach him. Our first thought is to get thee fromMonmouth's hold and place thee in safety elsewhere. The noble LadyConstance is helping us and hopes that by to-night to have arrangedcertain matters, so with our aid thou mayest be able to see hisMajesty very soon. One of the Brotherhood will accompany thee to hispresence or meet thee there; for we are anxious of the issue. Thouwilt--" The conversation was interrupted by the sound of wheels. Theguard came running to them, crying half aloud,--

"Methinks some one of importance is about to arrive, as there is acoach and outriders and a score of mounted escort. If thou, Father,art found here, I'm doomed. I prithee hide thyself;--and my lady'sgown can be seen for a league. Hide here, behind this bunch of iris,'til the cavalcade hath passed."

It was in truth the young Duke of Monmouth, who was hurrying with theimpatience of young, warm blood to his mistress. For all Katherine wasindignant with him for having such wicked intentions toward her, yetshe was moved by the fact that he was a Prince, the son of the King;and susceptible as are all womankind to masculine beauty, she hardlycould withhold her admiration. She did not fear him, on the contraryshe wished to play with firebrands and see how he would appear in hereyes, now that she understood him. On a sudden she wished to see himmore than any one else in the world, Lord Cedric excepted; and in heradventurous heart vowed to torment and give him pangs to remember herby. Her pride was wrought upon. That any one should presume to loveher without thought of espousal! and Janet's words came back to herwith great force, making her see her error in accompanying the Duke.

There were a few hasty words spoken by the monk as he left her, andpassed through the postern-gate, where none save Eustis saw his tallform. Katherine took her time, as she crossed the lawn to her formerseat, stopping here and there to gather a nosegay; exulting all thetime at his Grace's discomfort when he found her not within doors.Suddenly she thought of Christopher and of what might happen to theservants if the Duke undertook to vent his displeasure upon them. Atthe thought, she leant forward, straining her ear for any signs ofviolence; but she only heard Janet say,--

"My eyes have not been off her, your Grace. I'm just taking her awrap."

"Give it to me," the Duke said in a voice surprisingly calm andgentle. It piqued Katherine. It was disappointing not to hear afierce voice like Cedric's was wont to be. She saw the Duke's formsilhouetted by a bush of white blossom and heard from his lips aquaint love ditty. It so set her very susceptible heart to flutteringshe knew not whether to be glad or sorry that he was there. She wasweaving a garland in a peculiar manner learned at the convent. Thefinished strands she placed under the bench upon which she sat,pretending the while neither to see nor hear his Grace as he walkedabout from bush to bush, singing softly. But he soon caught theglimmer of her dress, and he came bounding toward her.

"Pray what does Mistress Penwick out alone on so dark a night?"

"Ah!"--she started in feigned alarm, dropping her flowers and risinghurriedly--"'tis your Grace of Buckingham. I admit I was startled."She made a sweeping courtesy.

"We who love never forget its voice, Mistress. I believed that thouwouldst never be able to find it in Buckingham's tones; for if 'twasthere, thou only could note its tenderness." He so ignored herfeint--and she knew he understood that she knew not whether to keep upher hypocrisy or recant.

"Didst see the King, your Grace, upon my affair?" He stooped torecover the flowers she had dropped. She hindered him, fearing lest heshould see her schoolgirl play beneath the bench.

"Ah! ah! what hast thou hid there?" She exulted.

"Nothing, your Grace, only--the flowers are not worth the exertion."

"Aye, they are worth the bended knee of a thousand, when dropped fromsuch fair hands," and he again essayed to reach them; but she stoodbetween, and holding her hand out to him, said,--

"Nay. I pray thee come. I am going to the villa. 'Tis growing damp."She timidly made as if to go. He on the instant drew his sword andlunged beneath the bench and drew out upon its point the maid'sflowers. He laughed at his disappointment, for he was certain some onewas beneath. She felt ashamed of her childish pastime and hastenedwithin doors. He followed, carrying the interwoven hearts upon thepoint of his sword. He held them high for inspection as he entered thelighted room, and was transported with delight when he saw the design,and complimented her upon its significance.

"Thou dost seem to know that two hearts are to be entwined, at anyrate! Even if a voice full of passion doth corrupt thine ears tohearing tones that are vibrantless of love." He broke into agreat laugh and looked upon Katherine's blushing face with tenderadmiration. "Come, Mistress, I have played thee very uncavalierly,inasmuch as I have not answered thy question. Sit with me and sup.There--his Majesty is indisposed. He will not be able to see thee forat least a week. Then I am to bring the most beautiful woman in theworld to Court."

"I am very sorry; my business is imperative--"

"Imperative!--imperative! that such words should fall from cherry lipsthat will become irresistible should they turn to pouting;--so takeheed and tempt me not." He had already swallowed several glasses ofwine and was fast becoming audacious.

Janet stood behind Mistress Penwick's chair; her face appearingimmutable. The Duke bade the maid drink her wine. She touched her lipsto the glass and set down the cup. He swept it passionately to hisown. Katherine's boldness was fast declining. She began to wish thatsomething would happen to take the Duke's attention from her. EvenConstance' presence would be a relief. If she were only in the gardenagain--free--she would fly to some place of safety.

He lowered his voice into a passionate whisper and leant over,catching her hand as she would withdraw it. He began to draw hertoward him. Her fear was evident, for Monmouth, drunk as he was, sawit, and fell to coaxing. His voice, not yet maudlin, was sweet andimpassioned.

"Thou were not afraid when that Russian knave claimed thee and wasabout to carry thee off, and now thou hast the King's son to guard andlove thee--love--dost hear it, my Precious? And I came to claim theethis night, to tell thee all I know, to make the little Convent Maidwise." He threw his arm about her, almost drawing her from the chair.Katherine was white and trembling, knowing not which way to turn.

"Indeed, sir, I know not thy meaning."

"My meaning? Dost not thou know what love is? Of course thou dostnot--if thou didst, it might be I should not care to be thy tutor.Come, I will teach thee this night--now, my Pretty,--now. Come, comewith me." He arose and essayed to draw her toward the door that ledto an inner chamber. Katherine was well nigh to swooning, and perhapswould have, had not there fell upon her ear the sound of some oneentering the house. "Ah, heaven!" she thought, "if it were only FatherLa Fosse or Sir Julian or even--ah!" She did hear Constance' voice."Aye, even Constance could think of some way for her to escape." Sheknew Janet was behind her chair, but she might have lost her usual witand have become incapable of helping at the very moment she was mostneeded. Monmouth drank another glass of wine, then withdrew fromhis chair and leant over that of the maid, drawing her close in hisembrace. He was now so drunk he did not hear the door creak as Janetand Katherine did; the former, seeing the pale, triumphant face ofConstance reflected in a mirror, as she stood half-way inside thedoor. Katherine tried to disengage herself by reaching for anotherglass of wine. The Duke reached it for her and would hold it to herlips; but she, looking up at him with a feint of a smile, said incoaxing tones,--

"I was getting it for thee; your Highness will drink it?"

"Could I refuse--there!--there! Come!--" He put his arms about herand was carrying her forth, when Janet plucked him by the sleeve andwhispered something in his ear. He loosed for a moment her tremblingform and she began to weep. These tears made him forget Janet's words,and he turned again to Katherine.

"There, there, my wife; thou dost break my heart at each sob. Here,see here what I brought thee," and he placed on her arm a circlet ofrubies. "There, hush thy tears. I will not teach thee anything but howkind I may be--there, sit thee down. I will let thee wait until thouart accustomed to man's caresses." Monmouth's heavy drinking trendedto strengthen his good humour, else he might have resented roundly theinterruption of his love-making by the entrance of Lady Constance. Heheld out his hand to her, saying,--

"Come, my lady; see my poor dear. The poor child is affrighted at mylove-making. Thou wouldst not be so frightened, Constance,--eh?"

"I am not a child, your Highness, to fall to weeping if so honourablea gentleman as some should choose to kiss my hand." The Duke reachedto the table and pressed another cup of wine to his lips, that werealready stiffened by excess.

"Come, Sweet; give me one kiss--" and he bent over her close.

"Nay, nay, I'll not suffer thee." And Katherine drew from him withflashing eyes.

"Come, silly child; one, just one." She fled from his reach. He soughtto catch her but was stopped by Constance who whispered somethinghurriedly. The Duke turned upon Janet and frowned, then broke into amocking laugh, and with a sly wink at Constance, said,--

"Thou art a trickster, good nurse; thou didst play upon me foully.Good, good nurse! Come, go quickly. Thou shalt see no morelove-making; I forbid thee; kiss thy nestling and go. I will watchover her. Come, my sweet, come!" His Grace took the maid in his strongarms, and though his legs threatened collapse, bore her toward thedoor.

Janet saw the look of devilish menace and triumph upon Lady Constance'face and--beyond--what did she see behind the curtain of the windowthat looked upon the garden? Surely 'twas something more than theevening breeze that stirred those hangings. 'Twas a familiar facethat looked from behind the folds; aye, of a truth, 'twas Sir JulianPomphrey's. When Monmouth, half carrying Katherine, reached the doorand stood some little way beyond its deep embrazure, he turned toJanet again, saying,--

"Go, good nurse. I wait for thine exit. Come, begone!"

"I beg your Grace to forgive the lie I told and give pledge of thyforgiveness by taking this." She handed him a brimming cup.

"Then, good nurse, I forgive thee. Here is to the maid thou dost letgo and to the woman I shall bring back." He threw back his head andlifted the cup. As it touched his lips a handkerchief fell about hiseyes and a strong hand covered his mouth and the Duke lay helplessupon the floor.

Janet carried the half-fainting maid from the room. As she did so, SirJulian and Lord Cedric, who had also come through the window, carriedthe young Duke to another chamber; binding him fast; keeping his eyeswell blindfolded and their own tongues still. Constance was leftstanding in the middle of the floor in dumb surprise and chagrin. In amoment Lord Cedric returned, and his voice rang steel as he faced her,nor was there shadow of pity as he saw her white face grow ghastly infear.

"Thou, Constance, art the receptacle of all the damned ills flung frommortals, whether of the mind or body. As for soul, that unknown thingto thee--thou canst not recognize in another and therefore canst takeon nothing of it save its punishment hereafter, when thou shalt haveno choice of condiment. Thy heart lies festering in the rheum thatexuviates from its foul surroundings. Conscience thou art bankrupt of,and in its place doth lurk the bawd that envenoms thy senses and turnsthy narrow body into prodigious corruption--"

"Cedric,--my God; stay thy tongue!"

"Nay, nay; my tongue is a well-matched Jehu for thy devil's race. Iwould I might scorch thee with it, to give thee foretaste of that tocome; perchance 'twould seethe thy rottenness to the quick--if thouof that art not also bereft--and turn thee from thy course. Thou dostpander for the King's son and steal an innocent maid of unripe yearsto gratify his lust--ah, 'sdeath! thou art but a pernicious wench,as false as hell. And when the nurse whispered that 'twould save thechild from shame, thy protrusile tang-of-a-serpent didst sibilate inhis ready ear a denial--"

"Cedric, Cedric; cease, I pray!" And Constance fell upon her kneessobbing. But the young lord's storm had not yet spent itself, and hesped on in fury:

"I would thy noxious blood had all run out ere mingling with itsbetter, and I had naught of so foul a taint within. If I held theapothecary's skill, I would open my veins and purge from them thyjaundiced blood and let in slime of snakes and putrid matter tosweeten the vessel thus set free--"

"My lord, we must hasten. The maid is ready to depart with hernurse," said Sir Julian. As the young lord turned to him, LadyConstance--crushed and broken--said,--

"Couldst thou not see why I have so misused my better self; have thineeyes been blind all these years not to see how I have loved thee,Cedric--thee--thee--with all my heart and soul?"

"I would not hear thee prate of anything so sacred as love,--'tissacrilege."

"Nay, not so, Cedric! I love thee more than heaven. I love thy scorn,if to be free from it were to deprive me of thy presence. I wouldfollow thee to the end of time, even though thy brow lowered in everthreatening storm--"

"Nay! thou shalt not follow me. Would I draw such as thou to yondermaid? From this moment thou art none of mine, and I fling thee from meas I would a snake.--Thou didst think to take Mistress Katherine fromme; put her beyond my reach, first, by marriage, then by ruin. Thanksto heaven, both of thy infernal schemes miscarried and she is again inmy keeping. And soon I shall fold her to me as my own; pillow her headhere, Constance, here, where thou sayest thou shouldst love to lie. Ishall press her to my heart as wife, wife--ah! I have at last touchedthe quick within thee. We may hope there is some redemption--somepossibility of bringing thee back from thy foulness--"

"Come, Cedric, come; we are late!" cried Sir Julian at the door. LordCedric turned to go, but Constance flew to his side and grasped hishand,--

"Nay, nay; thou shalt not leave me thus. Thou shalt not leave me to goto one who cares not one jot for thee! Cedric, turn not away. Do notleave me here. Cedric, hear me, take me, take me with thee! I will beso good--"

Again Sir Julian came and called hastily,--"Indeed, my lord, there isa chaise upon the highway, and if we mistake not 'tis the King's."Cedric loosed himself from Constance and hurried from the room. Sheflew after him; but he had passed Sir Julian and flung himself upon ahorse. Pomphrey saw her plight, and, whether from pity, gallantry, orintrigue, lifted her quickly--before she had time to withdraw fromhim--into a coach. Cedric remonstrated with him; but Julian wasconfident of his motive and started the coach at full speed. They flewalong in the opposite direction from whence came the King.

It was his Majesty, who had heard of his son's hiding with somebeauteous maid and was resolved to play a trick and come upon himunawares.

It was feared, when he should find Monmouth in such a plight, he wouldpursue the offenders, if for nothing but to see with his own eyes themaid who had so wrought upon his son's affections.

The coaches bearing Katherine and Constance sped along at a rapidswing. The one bearing Katherine, with Janet by her side, was somedistance ahead; Constance alone in the rear. Cedric and Julian rode ateither side of the first coach, their horses in full gallop.

They reached Southwark after two hours' hard riding. Katherine wasnot aware of Lord Cedric's presence, and he avoided meeting her orattracting her attention in any way. He was content with the thoughtthat she was near him.

They proposed to remain at Tabard Inn at least until the next night,when they would set out under cover of the darkness for Crandlemar,where Lord Cedric had given orders to have all things ready forhis immediate espousal. He knew that Katherine loved him, and feltsanguine that after passing through so many vicissitudes she wouldcome to her senses and give up the ideas of churchly duties andreligious requirements.

Lady Constance feared the worst, now that Cedric was once more withKatherine. What could she do to stave the matter off? She knewCantemir would hardly be able to place Cedric in the Tower beforeanother week. She was tempted to poison or kill in some way the maid.Aye, she would kill her--that would be safest. Then Cedric could nothave her. They would be parted forever.

CHAPTER XIX

WHAT HAPPENED IN THE COACH

In the meantime his Majesty had entered the villa and found his sonbound and in drunken sleep. Seeing he was uninjured, the King fellto laughing at his plight, his ringing tones awakening Monmouth. TheKing's gentlemen unbound him and brought him to a chair. The youth wasnot long in collecting himself, quickly making a tale for his father'sears.

"I have caught thee, James,"--said the King,--"but where, oh! where isthe maid? Has she flung thee off and escaped with thy guard, who leftthe gates wide, or didst thou expect us and had them placed so for ourconvenience?"

"'Tis certain, Sire, I have been foully treated. I have been druggedand some valuable papers taken I had got hold on."

"And who held the papers before thee, a pretty wench, eh?" Monmouthglanced suspiciously at Buckingham, who stood behind the King.

"Now indeed, Sire, I should like thy opinion upon her, and--she hatha secret, as the Duke there can testify." Buckingham started, but metthe King's glance with a stolid countenance.

"And what is this secret, George?"

"'Tis something the Papists have enveigled the maid into bringing tothy notice, your Majesty," and the Duke cast a contemptuous glance atMonmouth, who had made a wrong move.

"Then, by God! why was she detained? Why did any one take the papersfrom her?" His Majesty looked not too kind at his son, who was nowfair caught. "We will send for her posthaste." The lackeys werequestioned of the direction taken by the coaches that had just leftthe grounds, and a courier was sent after them, bearing the Royalcommand to Mistress Penwick to appear before his presence within threedays.

The courier did not reach the inn until the party were about to setforth, on account of being turned repeatedly from his course bydesigning lackeys left along the way for the purpose.

Sir Julian, Katherine and Janet were standing at the coach door whenLady Constance came hurrying down the stairs to join them, unasked;for she was of no mind to let Cedric carry off Katherine without her.She felt it would be worse than death. As she opened her mouth to askof Cedric--for she saw he was not with the party--the King's messengerrode into the courtyard. Mistress Penwick received the order from thecourier with her own hand, and was rejoiced at it; Lady Constance flewto her chamber in an ecstasy; Sir Julian roundly disappointed at thenews he must send Cedric, who had gone on toward Crandlemar. Therewas no help for them now. They were under the King's order; but--whatmight not happen in three days?

Sir Julian was as adamant when Constance proposed a trip to London,and would under no circumstances allow her to leave the inn. Janetkept Katherine in complete seclusion, fearing lest some new thingshould come upon them. She did not fail, however, to tell Sir Julianof the monk's visit to the grounds of the villa and of his project toaccompany her to the King, when an audience should be granted.

"I am glad thou didst apprise me of this, Janet, for it gives me anidea. I have seen lurking about several of the Order and have watchedthem carefully."

The morning of the eventful day arrived. Mistress Penwick was alreadygowned in a sombre old woman's dress. A hump was fastened to hershoulder; her face was darkened skillfully and leprous blotchespainted thereon. She stepped like a Queen, for all that, and 'twasfeared her falseness would become evident to the King's eye.

Lady Constance was to remain at the inn, a prisoner, until Sir Juliansaw fit to release her. With curious eyes she watched for Katherine,whom she conceived would be decked in irresistible finery. She evenpictured her beauty, clad in that soft brocade of peach and green thatso became her figure and enhanced the richness of her youthful bloom.

"Ah! ah!" she cried under her breath, as she saw the maiden's masque,and fairly bit her lips in rage at the clever ruse about to be playedupon the King. Back she flew from the window and pranced up and downher chamber in rage, her brain on fire. She sought in its hot depthssome way--some way. "It must be done. The King must know. It would bethe convent wench's ruin--and what would his Majesty not do for onewho should give him hint?" She was not kept under close guard. Shecould go about the corridors as she chose. Out she flew into one ofthese and saw near by a scullion furbishing a brass knob.

"Come, fool, hast thou a close mouth?" she said, almost in a whisper.

"Aye, too close for the comfort of my stomach."

"Then here--but first, bring me from anywhere thou canst a gentleman'ssuit that will cover me in plenty--not too scant, remember, and bringa horse from where thou likest to the door below. Haste thee, and thoushalt have this." She jingled a well-filled purse in his face. Off heran in hot haste, soon returning with the desired outfit; no doubtlooted from some gentleman's closet near by. Quickly she donned it;but here and there were slight alterations to be made, and her fingerswere all a-tremble, slackening speed to a meagre haste. She donned ared-hued periwig and cockle hat, then strutted back and forth, proudof her fine appearance, as, indeed, she looked a roguish fop of nomean parts. She flung out into the passage and asked the lad if thehorse was ready.

"Aye, Sir!" he said, impudently. She flung him a bag of gold with ashow of masculine strength. Out it flew through the open window, downto the pavement, frightening the steed from his groom, who firststopped to pluck the bag before giving chase to the wily horse. Downcame the scullion, followed close by the gay young fop, who waitedimpatiently outside the door. The guard looked on indifferently,his eyes fixed upon the groom, rather than the young man that pacedrestlessly up and down the courtyard.

At last Lady Constance dashed out upon the highway with a smile ofcunning on her face, a devil's flash from her eyes, a haughty curvingon her lips, and her heart beating faster and faster, the nearer shedrew to the King's palace. "One masque is as fair as another, andmethinks the King's eye will open wider at my boldness than atMistress Penwick's plain dissembling, should he require a fair show ofour feigning. He will love me for my daring and for bringing him theknowledge aforetime of the maid's deception. And when the wench smilesin triumph, he will bring her down upon her knees by one fair blow oftongue. 'Twould be like his Majesty to deprive her of decent covering,if I can only make her designing plain to him." On she rode in highgood humour with her adventure; for if this move was without laches ormischance, 'twould be a triumph indeed. The maid would be ruined andher own fortunes made.

The coach arrived at the Royal Palace upon the stroke of four.Mistress Penwick was conducted to the King's ante-chamber. She wasvisibly nervous; trying vainly to calm the fast beating of her heart.When at last she was called, Sir Julian walked beside her to thethreshold of his Majesty's chamber. The King, ever _insouciant_,had never thought to ask Monmouth the maid's name, and when she waspresented as "Mistress Wick," and he beheld her form and attire,he was amazed. He felt he had been made a dupe; that Monmouth hadpurposely made him believe this girl was beautiful for some subtlecause, perhaps just to gain an audience for her;--then, as he saw thespots upon her face, he recoiled and a horrible thought came. Had shesome loathsome disease and been sent to him that he might--He started,his blood boiling with indignation. "Treason," he cried in his heart,and before the maid had arisen from her knees, he called for herdismissal. She was taken precipitately from the King's presence beforeshe had time to open her mouth.

The King was greatly wrought upon, giving Monmouth the blame. Thematter must be sifted. He would write an order for his son's arrest,and--yes, the woman must be taken also.

Sir Julian saw it all in Katherine's disappointed and half-angry face,but without giving her time to relate her grievances, rushed her tothe coach, putting her into it with very little ceremony. They werefairly flying from the Palace, turning from the sight of a young fopas he came at full gallop through the throng that crowded near theRoyal House.

The youth made known his desire to see the King, saying the matter wasan imperative one. Even as he spoke, his Majesty came from within andheard the breathless request.

"What now, my pretty rogue; what is thy wish?"

"May I speak with thee apart?" said the lad, as he knelt and kissedthe King's hand. "'Tis something of import--a trick is about to beplayed upon thee." The King took alarm.

"We are about to start forth, my lad. Come, thou mayest walk by ourside, and if thy speech is as neat and comely as thy body, 'tispossible ere we reach the end of yonder corridor thy tongue will havewon for thee the Royal favour." The King leant upon Constance as theyswaggered along down the passage.

"May I be so bold as to inquire of your Majesty if there has not cometo thee a woman with swart marks upon her face and a hump on her back,preferring a petition for thy signature to some lands now held by theCatholics?" The King started and looked now with great interest uponthe girlish fop, and speaking slowly as he answered,--

"Why, yes; she hath come and gone. What of her?"

"She hath played foully upon her King. I would give, Sire, half mylife to have seen your Majesty compel her to wash the painted spotsfrom her face and take from her shoulder the false hump, and she--"

"Ah! ah!" came from the thoroughly awaked King.

"--is the greatest beauty in England." For the first time Constancegave Katherine her dues.

"Dost thou speak truth, lad?"

"I fear my King too much to speak otherwise, unless, indeed, it wereto save his life."

"Then--" said the King, with flashing eyes.--"We shall have her back;we'll send for her at once; and, my pretty lad, thou shalt remain hereto see the fun, with your King. 'Twill be rare sport, eh?" He gaveConstance so sound a smack upon the shoulder, it came near to knockingher flat. It brought the tears and made her bite her tongue. The Kingfairly roared with laughter.

Buckingham heard the King's order to recall the woman. He also knewthe King's informant, and for reasons of his own sent straightway oneto intercept his Majesty's messenger.

Lady Constance, believing that Sir Julian, with Katherine, wouldreturn to Tabard Inn, mentioned it. This, of course, allowing theyfollowed Constance' suggestion, gave Sir Julian a good start andBuckingham's messengers time to reach their several destinations.

The night had come with even greater heat than the day. The sultrygloaming foretold a near-by storm. Clouds were brewing fast and thick,with ominous mutterings. Already every inch of blue sky was overcastwith a blackness that was heavy and lowering. Occasionally the sullenthunder was prefaced by a jaundiced light that swathed the skies fromend to end. The coach bearing Katherine and Janet left the causewayand entered a thick forest. The great trees seemed even larger; theirsilence becoming portentous. There was not a breath of air. Katherinefanned herself with Janet's hat, but hardly did her efforts create abreeze large enough to move the threads of hair that waved above herforehead.

They had proceeded but a short way into the forest when the postiliongot down to light the lamps.

Sir Julian rode close to the window and spoke of the approachingstorm. The stillness was ominous; there being no sound save the plashof a muskrat as he skurried through a dismal, dark pool near by.Katherine jumped at the noise and her small hand grasped the arm ofSir Julian, as it lay across the ledge of the window. She gave alittle gasp--just enough to touch Sir Julian tenderly.

"'Tis nothing but a lusty genet, my dear," and his hand closed overhers for a moment. There was something about that touch that thrilledthem both; he leant farther toward her as another flash came throughthe trees and was sure he saw a flush upon her face. The lights fromthe lanterns flashed up, then--stood silent and unmoved, the boy'sbreath who stood over them was swallowed in the hot air. Then thecoach began to move and at the same time the giant trees stirred ina peculiar way. They, like a vast army, bent low with a sound as ofheavy artillery rumbling over a bridge that covered vacuous depths.Then they began a deafening noise, their branches sweeping hardagainst the coach windows.

Katherine lay back languidly against the cushions, still tremblingfrom the gentle pressure of Sir Julian's hand. For a moment only sheenjoyed this sweet dissipation, then turned from it as if duty calledher to think of her visit to the King. She consoled herself that shehad done all she could now. When she reached Crandlemar, she shouldbe better able to collect her thoughts and see what would be the nextbest thing to do. She longed to see Lord Cedric and the Duke andDuchess. She even fell to imagining how the grand, old place wouldlook in midsummer. It seemed like she had been gone months. WouldCedric be changed, she wondered? Would he be pale and fragile looking?

So great was Sir Julian's haste, and so great was the heat, the horseswere soon exhausted and began to lag. Sir Julian thought they werenear an inn, as it soon proved. He flung open the door and almostlifted Katherine from the coach, so great was his haste. Supperwas awaiting them and Katherine for the moment alone, near anopen window,--the room appeared close to suffocation with humidheat--waited for Sir Julian to take his seat at her side. Janet wasarranging a posset. Suddenly Katherine heard a soft voice behind her;it was low and intense. Hardly could she distinguish it from thesoughing of the wind in the trees. She half-turned her head to listenas Sir Julian came toward her. But she caught the words:

"Abbe ---- will be in the coach upon thy return. Enjoin silence uponthy nurse and be not afraid."

She thought Sir Julian looked at her suspiciously; but was quite surehe had not seen or heard the person behind her.

Janet, while in the coach had bathed the maid's face and taken fromher the garb of disguise, and Katherine now looked her sweet selfagain, flushed and thoughtful over this new adventure. She was mostlike her father, ever looking for new fields to conquer. Sir Julianasked her if she would be frightened at a severe storm. She answeredit made her somewhat nervous to be abroad.

"Then I will ride inside with thee--"

"Nay, I could not think of allowing thee. The air is too oppressive."Sir Julian insisted, but to no avail. As they were about to leave theinn, Katherine whispered to Janet that an Abbe would be in the coachand enjoined silence and deaf ears.

"I did not catch his name, but I'm quite sure his voice rung like AbbeLa Fosse's. They have doubtless heard I am on my way to the castle,and, knowing 'twould be impossible to see me there, they have takenthis way, being impatient to know how fell my suit with the King."Janet for once had no answering word, but uttered a groan of seemingdissent and followed her mistress, who leant upon Sir Julian's arm.

The dim light cast from the lanterns was well-nigh swallowed up in theintense gloom. The rain was already falling rapidly and Sir Julianopined that it was a hopeful sign, as it presaged no sudden gust thatwould tear things to pieces. The door of the coach slammed to and thehorses started at gallop through the windy forest. Mistress Penwick,now for the first time alone, that is without the surveillance ofCantemir or Eustis, with a beloved Father of her church, flung herselfupon her knees at his side, saying:

"Beloved Father, my visit to the King was fruitless; he received memost coldly." The Abbe lifted her from her knees as she spoke, placingher beside him. Her face was close to his, for the noise of thehorses' hoofs and the rattling of spurs and bits and the ever-rumblingthunder made speech difficult. His face turned toward her was hidin the shadow of his cowl, and he drew the hood even closer as heanswered,--

"But it does, I cannot help it; and I see also thy disappointment, forthy hands tremble."

"We have had much to unnerve us, and I am still under restraint."

"I would thou hadst sent a better _embassage_!"

"We could not have found a fairer." At these words Mistress Penwickshrunk from him, remembering her disguise; which, though it was acustom of the time for one to go masqued when and where they pleased,upon whatsoever mission, yet she felt guilty to positive wickednessfor having so cloaked her beauty, and did not the Father's words implythat her charms should have won success? For a moment she remainedsilent. A flash of lightning fell broad through the open window. Shequickly glanced at Janet, who appeared to be asleep in her corner.Katherine bent her face close to the Abbe's and whispered,--

"Father, might I not here make my confessions? I would have come tothee at the monastery if it had been possible. The confessional hasnot been open to me since I left the convent, and I feel I mustconfess. I must now; for I know not when I shall be able again to haveconverse with a priest. May I, Father?"

"'Tis a noisome, stormy night and thy nurse there--"

"I will speak low, beside I care not if she does hear that thatdoth concern myself; for, indeed she understands me better than Iunderstand myself. Then I may speak, Father?"

"I will hear that I deem needful for the peace of thy soul; ifperchance thy soul be wrought upon unhappily; and for sins innocentlydone I absolve thee already." Mistress Penwick half knelt by thecowled figure and placed her elbows upon his knees, and after sayingthe prayers of contrition leant her face close to his.

"I have been guilty of what I believe to be a very great sin. Father,I disguised myself to go before the King!" She trembled and bent herhead. The priest's voice was calm and unperturbed.

"And why didst thou that?"

"I heard 'twas an unsafe thing for a maid boasting of some fairness tovisit the King."

"Why so?"

"I have heard he keeps them for his own pleasure, allowing not theirreturn."

"And didst thou think we would have let thee go to him, had it notbeen safe?"

"But I thought, good Father, living as closely as thou dost, thoudidst not know of the matters of the world, and I ventured to use myown judgment, meaning no harm. But I will go to him unmasqued if thoudost appoint it so. I intend to do so. Shall I not?"

"Nay, thou hast done all and more than is expected of thee."

"How, more?"

"'Twas brave to go at all after hearing of his Majesty's demeanour."

"But I was not very much afraid; indeed, I became very calm as Ientered his presence."

"If I understand, thou wert ambitious to become a Maid of Honour."

"At one time, but having better acquaintance with the Court, I feel myardour has cooled."

"We have gone somewhat astray, my child. We will finish thyconfessions for I soon must leave thee. Indeed, if this is the weightypart of thy sins, there is no need to confess any more."

"One thing I am particularly anxious to inquire of thee. Since lovecomes and we cannot help it, 'twould be wrong not to give it place?"

"If the love is love and not masquerading passion, and it comes fromone who is not altogether unworthy of thee?"

"Indeed, he is most worthy, barring his religion, which is Protestant.I would have advice upon this matter, for I believe the love ismutual."

"My child, if his heart is good and true, and thou lovest him, and hethee, the manner of worshipping God should not be of question, sinceone shows his love one way and another another. The common scullion,who, from year's end to year's end sees not inside the holy sanctuary,may carry in his heart the divine image of God and pay him homageevery breath he draws; while he who walks in sacred robes and abidesever in the shadow of the cross, taking part in all the forms, pomps,vanities and varied monotony, may have Satan within him and breathesout flames of hell as he intones. We can in all things beside religiondiscern punctilio. There is no sect that has the control of the HolySpirit; it is the exclusive property of the individual who gains theright and title of it by the keeping of the ten commandments. So, ifthou art sure thou dost love the youth, and art most sure he lovesthee sincerely, then--"

"Then, indeed, I am most happy; for I am sure he is noble and goodand--loves me."

"When didst thou learn that he loved thee; for if I mistake not, thouwert recently bent upon marrying one Adrian Cantemir, who, I mustdeclare, is altogether unworthy of a maid who doth possess suchvirtue."

"I have learned to since--since--I can't tell when--I knew I lovedhim--yesterday--the day before. I know it now. I tremble when I thinkof how well I love him. I have been so uncertain, Father. I thought Iloved this one, and then another, and for a time I was not sure I knewwhat love was. Then it came to me on a sudden that I would rather diethan live all my life without the one I so desired. And yesterday Iknew of a certainty that I loved and that I was loved."

"Yesterday?"--and the priest winced, and there was pain in the tone ofhis voice as he uttered the word.

"Aye, yesterday--I was thinking. I thought of his kindness to me--ofthe deference he has shown me, of his great patience toward me; and Isaw how well he loved me."

"Was it the King's son, my child?"

"Nay, one not nearly so gentle as the Duke. He is more noble at heartand hath a most noble name. He hath a handsome countenance, moreeven than the Duke's, and Janet says he hath the finest mould in allEngland. Indeed, I do not know so much about such things, but I amsure his hands are near as small as mine, but with a grasp like iron.He is wonderfully strong and hath an awful stamp when in rage, and histemper is most violent and bad, and his tongue is vicious;--indeed,Father, I know not what to do with his oaths. They frighten me."

"Perhaps if thou shouldst go to him and ask in all gentleness, hewould leave off blasphemy."

"But I have no influence with him. When anger takes him, he isterrible."

"Then I'm afraid he does not love thee."

"Aye, he loves me; but wants his own way, and--to be sure, I love himquite as well when he does have his way--which is not often. Janetsays I provoke him to swear." Again the priest started and his whitehands trembled suspiciously.

"And how dost thou so provoke him, child?"

"He would marry me straightway and give me not time to know whether Iwanted him or not, and I refused and he fell into an awful fury andswore oaths and I could not stop him,--Father, I said I hated him, andnow he so believes, and I would have him think otherwise; yet I wouldnot tell him for the world. When I meet him, it shall be--with coldlooks."

"Then how is he to know thy mind?"

"I know not." Katherine shook her head dolefully.

"Then when he greets thee, why not smile at him and look thyfeelings?"

"I know not, only 'tis my way. I shall love to hear him plead again. Ihated to hear it once; but now--'twill be like music."

"What if he is cold to thee?"

"If he is cold, I will go to him and ask him to forgive me for what Ihave done."

"Then thou art culpable?"

"Aye, I fear I am, for he now suffers for my fault, or rather for hislove of me."

"But if he greets thee with all love and holds out his arms to thee?"

"Then I shall be most happy, but shall act indifferently."

"I am afraid thou dost treat a serious matter lightly; for 'tis afickle thing; if he meets thee with open arms, thou wilt be cruel;if he greets thee coldly, thou wilt be indifferent--for fear of thymaiden scruples. What if he takes thee unawares?"

"I must always love him, no matter what trick he plays;--but he willplay me no trick. If he should again threaten to lock me up, as he hasdone heretofore, I would go to him and say,--'Nay, I will marry theenow, Cedric!'"

"God, Kate! Kate!" And the priest threw his arms about her, almostcrushing her in his great embrace. The cowl slipt from his head andhis dark curls swept her face as he bent over her. Instantly she knewhim and straightway fell into a rage.

"Thou, thou, Lord Cedric, dare to receive confession from one whoselife thou hast no part in. Dost thou know the penalty of suchwickedness? All evil will be visited upon thee for playing the part ofa holy priest. Indeed, of all the sins I had deemed thee capable, Ihad ne'er thought of one so wicked as this!" She fell back inthe corner of the coach in such fury, she could not find furtherutterance.

CHAPTER XX

UNPROCLAIMED BANNS

"Indeed, Mistress Penwick, I asked not for thy confessions. But nowthat I have heard them, 'tis my meed to be punished by thy sharptongue for that I could not help. Come, Sweet, forgive and love me.Have I not suffered enough?"

"Lambkin, I am out of all humour with thee. Thou art half a termagant,I admit!"

"And thou, too, wert privy to this deception. I am truly withoutfriends!" and the maid began to weep softly behind her handkerchief.Lord Cedric was beside himself with his folly.

"If I only could have withstood thee; but how could I with thy tenderwords and thy closeness--"

"There is nothing accomplished but mistakes!" Janet ventured, beingimpatient with both Cedric and Kate.

"--Kate!--Kate! dost not thou know how I have longed for thee; how myheart has ached in thine absence? Those two whole days I lay abed werelike so many years, and when I thought of thy danger, I fell into afever and I arose and leapt upon the fleetest steed and rode until myfever cooled; and then--when I had thee once more, I could not keepfrom thee longer; I resolved upon this plan that I might be with thee,and ride by thy side. And thou dost murder me outright. Thou dost killme, Kate! I was a fool to undertake it, I know; but I thought of twowhole days I should be separated from thee and felt I could not bearto wait. Thy words, Kate, were so sweet. Kate, come to me once moreand see how loving I can be. Let me dry thy tears,--let thy head resthere upon my heart and close thine eyes and dream--dream, Kate, ofwhat we must be to each other, and then wake and find me bending overthee. Come, Sweet, come!" He sought her elusive fingers and tried todraw her to him with a tenderness she could hardly withstand; but shewould not unbend, drawing from him, sinking further into the corner.

"And did Sir Julian know of this ruse of thine?" she asked, haughtily.

"Janet, methinks the maid speaks with thee!"

"What is it, Lambkin? I was not listening."

"I will wait until the storm ceases, perhaps thou wilt find thyhearing by then." There was a long silence within the coach. The tearsof Mistress Penwick were dried and she sat sullen, deliberately tryingto hate Lord Cedric. There came a sudden burst of thunder that turnedthe tide of her thoughts from him to Sir Julian, who rode by herwindow constantly. At every flash of lightning she saw his spursglisten, saw the foam fly from the bits of his horse's bridle. He rodethere in the storm, heedless of all but her safety and comfort, hethat had wounds on his body that spake of great deeds of nobleness andvalour! Why should he care for her so? Like a flood he swept intoher heart, and she accepted his presence with gladness--shutting outCedric as well as she was able. She inclined her head toward thewindow and watched the handsome figure of Sir Julian with a newinterest. His form, so like that of Cedric, she began to compare withancient warriors she had read about and seen pictures of,--then histender and meaning hand pressure recurred to her, and she flushedmightily. After awhile she fell to thinking of the Duke of Monmouth,the tender thoughts of whom she had not yet resigned,--such were thevacillations of the mind of strong, warm, youthful Mistress Penwick.

The storm grew furious, and the wind blew such a gale it appeared attimes as if the trees swept the earth. They bended and swung rudely,brushing hard against the windows. In the midst of its severity thecoach came to a stand-still and Lord Cedric threw open the door. Janetleant quickly toward him,--